During the walk homeward, Haverland spoke but few words, although his
loquacious friend kept up a continual, unremitting stream of talk. The
woodman’s heart was too heavy to join him in his humorous, pointless
words. Although dark and fearful suspicions had flitted before him, he
had closed his eyes upon them, until he could no longer shun them, they
appeared at every turn, and now resumed a terrible certainty.
Although at the time of which we refer, the Revolutionary struggle
of the colonies had closed, and their freedom was placed upon a firm
basis, yet universal peace by no means reigned. Dark, sanguinary,
and bloody tragedies were constantly enacted upon the frontiers for
a generation afterward. The mother country, failing in her work of
subjugation, continued to incite the Indians to revolting barbarities
upon the unoffending inhabitants. They found them too-willing
instruments, and, instigated by them, a protracted war was long
maintained; and, when the moving cause was removed, the savages
still continued the unequal conflict. As every one acquainted with
our history must know, the war on the frontiers has been an almost
interminable one. As the tide of emigration has rolled westward, it has
ever met that fiery counter-surge, and only overcome it, by incessant
battling and effort. And even now, as the distant shores of the Pacific
are well nigh reached, that resisting wave still gives forth its lurid
flashes of conflict.
In a pleasant valley, stood the humble home of Alfred Haverland. His
own vigorous arm had cleared off a space on all sides, so that his
residence stood at some distance from the forest, which rolled away
for miles. In the clearing still remained the stumps of the fallen
trees, and in some places the rich, virgin soil had been broken, and
was giving signs of the exhaustless wealth it retained in its bosom,
waiting only for the hand of man to bring it forth.
The house itself, was such as are generally found in new settlements.
A number of heavy logs, placed compactly together, with an opening for
a door, and one for a window, were all that could attract attention
from the outside. Within, were two apartments, the lower and upper.
The former was used for all purposes except that of sleeping, which,
of course, was done in the upper. In building it, Haverland had made
little preparations for defence, as he fondly hoped it would never be
needed for such, and it seemed to him that the idea of danger would
ever be before him, should he construct it thus. And, besides, should
he use his utmost skill in the purpose mentioned, he knew it would
avail him little. He had no means of withstanding a protracted siege,
and a handful of assailants could bring him to any terms.
As he stepped forth into the clearing, Ina, his daughter, caught sight
of him, and bounded out the cabin to meet him.
“Oh, father! I am glad you have come back so soon, but dinner isn’t
ready. Did you think it was? I was just telling mother----”
She paused suddenly, as she caught sight of a stranger, and with her
hand on her mouth, stood, fearing to approach, and afraid to yield to
the impulse of turning, and running into the house again.
“No, I didn’t think dinner-time had come, but as I had a friend to
visit me, I thought I could entertain him at home better than in the
woods. But where is your kiss, dear?”
The father stooped, and touched his lips to the ruby ones of his
blooming child, and taking her hand, moved forward toward the cabin.
“Whew! if that ain’t a purty flower, then kick me!” exclaimed Seth
Jones, in admiration. “Was she originated in these parts? Darter, I
s’pose? Perhaps not, though?”
“Yes, she is my daughter, although she was not born in these parts.”
“Dew tell. Darned if she ain’t a beauty, and that makes what I said----”
The father motioned to him that the theme was forbidden, and they
walked silently toward the house.
It was no wonder that Ina Haverland drew forth such encomiums from Seth
Jones. She was, indeed, a beautiful creature. She had seen some fifteen
or sixteen summers, several of which had been spent in the wilderness,
which was now her home. She was rather small in stature, but graceful
as a gazelle, free from the restraints which the conventionalities of
life impose upon those of her age. She had dark hair, gathered in a
roll behind, fine expressive blue eyes, a perfect Grecian nose, thin
lips, and full chin, rendering the profile perfectly straight from the
forehead downward. Her face was oval, and her complexion almost too
light for a full enjoyment of health. Her dress was a semi-civilized
one, consisting of a short skirt, with leggins beautifully wrought, and
a loose sack, similar to the ones worn at the present day. Her small
feet were encased in tiny mocassins, elaborately wrought with beads and
Indian ornaments, and a string of wampum hung around the neck.
She led the way toward the house, and the three entered.
Haverland introduced his friend to his sister and wife, as a man who
had chanced down in this direction, and who would probably tarry
a few days. But the quick eye of his wife caught the thoughtful
expression upon her husband’s face, and she felt there was something
yet unrevealed--something deeper and more important, that was to be
disclosed. She, however, forbore questioning or hinting, knowing that
he would communicate what was necessary, when he deemed the proper time
had come.
A common-place conversation was maintained until the meal was prepared
by the busy housewife, when they all gathered around the board. An
earnest blessing was invoked upon the humble food, and it was partaken
of in silence.
“Wife,” said Haverland tenderly, “I will depart awhile with this friend
here, and you and Mary may busy yourselves as you think best till I
return. Probably I will not be back until toward night. Take no anxiety
upon my account.”
“I will endeavor not to, but, dear husband, go not far from home, for
strange fears have come over me since morning.”
Even the usually staid and calm face of Mary, betrayed an unusual
expression of anxiety.
“Fear not, wife, I will not go far.”
Haverland now stepped outside, where he saw Seth, all agape, gazing at
Ina, as she passed to and fro in the house.
“By gracious, you, I’m goin’ to fall in love with that gal. No
’bjections, hope?”
“No,” answered Haverland, with a faint smile, “her heart is unfettered,
and I hope it will remain so for a long time.”
“Oh! I don’t mean to love her as you dew yer old woman--yer wife. I
mean jest as I would my darter, yer know. She’s too small to think
about lovyers _yit_. Don’t you let _sich_ a thing git inter her head
for five years or more.”
“I’ll try not to; but let us take a walk. I have something to say,
which I would that they should not know for the present.”
“All right--but jest hold on a minute.”
At this juncture, Ina appeared with a small vessel, as if she intended
bringing some water from some spring nigh at hand.
“Hold on a minute, gal, my beauty,” said Seth, stepping forward, and
reaching for the pail. “That’s too big a load for you to carry.”
“No, I have done it often, thank you, but it is no work for me.”
“But jest let me fetch it _this_ time, if only to show my good will,
and my activity.”
Ina laughingly yielded the vessel, and watched him as he took long,
awkward strides toward the point where the path led into the forest.
“How far is it off?” he asked, turning round, as he reached the point
mentioned.
“A short distance,” answered Haverland, “the path leads to it.”
Seth made some unintelligible answer, as he jerked his head back and
disappeared.
This simple occurrence that we have just narrated, although trivial in
itself, was one of the circumstances which often controls important
acts, and which seem to show that an all-wise Ruler, orders them to
suit His purpose, and to bring about good in the end. Seth Jones had
no object other than a little amusement in his course, yet before he
returned, he saw how fortunate it was.
He strode rapidly forward, and after passing a short distance, reached
the spring. As he stooped, he was sure he heard a movement in the
bushes beyond; and, as he was about to dip the vessel, he saw in the
smooth face of the water, a movement in the shrubbery. He had too much
cunning and prudence to affect knowledge of it, and he filled the
vessel without betraying any signs of suspicion. As he rose to the
upright position, he gave an apparently careless sweep of his vision,
and not twenty feet distant he saw the crouching forms of two Indians!
As he turned his back, there was a peculiar, uncomfortable feeling, as
he knew that it was the easiest matter in the world to receive one or
two cold bullets. He, however, quickened his step not in the least,
and manifested no uneasiness, as he came to view in the clearing; and
laughingly handed the water to Ina.
“Come, let us go,” said Haverland, moving toward the spring.
“Not that ar way, by a long shot!” said Seth, with a meaning shake of
his head.
“Why not?”
“I’ll tell you purty soon.”
“Let us to the river, then?”
“That’ll do, ’specially _as it ain’t fur from your house_!”
Haverland looked searchingly at him, and he saw there was a deep
meaning behind these words, yet he said nothing, and led the way toward
the river.
This stream was but a few hundred yards from the house, and flowed
in a northerly and southerly direction. It was very smooth at this
point, and not very wide, yet a mile or so farther down, it debouched
into a large, broad, and deep river. The banks were lined, most of the
distance, by close, impenetrable shrubbery, overreached by lofty trees,
which were the edges of the almost interminable wilderness that then
covered this part of the State, and of which great portions remain unto
the present day.
Haverland moved to a spot where he had often stood and conversed with
his wife, when they first entered the place. Resting his rifle upon
the earth, and folding his arms over the muzzle, he turned around and
looked Seth full in the face.
“What did you mean, by telling me not to _go far from_ the house?”
“Jest hole on a bit,” replied Seth, bending his ear as if to listen.
Haverland watched him earnestly, and he also heard something
unusual--as if some one were rowing a canoe in the water. His companion
then stepped down to the water’s edge, and signalized for him to
approach. Haverland did so, and looked down the river. Some hundred
yards off he saw a canoe rapidly moving down stream, impelled by the
oars of three Indians!
“That is what I meant,” said he in a whisper, stepping back.
“Did you see them?” asked Haverland.
“I reckon I did. They were at the spring, watching for your gal to
come, so that they mought run off with her.”